


graceful skeletons

by basementmixtape



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe-Ballet Academy, Ballet, Competitive Dance Academy, ED Trigger Warning, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mortal AU, Russian Ballet - Freeform, drug abuse trigger warning, its good though i swear, leo and nico are very into each other right away, leo is a ballerino, nico is a theatre kid with a rebellious streak, when i say competitive i mean competitive these kids are killing each other for solos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basementmixtape/pseuds/basementmixtape
Summary: Leo has been dancing his entire life, and when he finally gets the leading role in A Midsummer Nights Dream, he won’t let anyone take his moment in the spotlight away from him. Jealous ballerinas and bitter ex-boyfriends are desperate to tear him down, by any means necessary. When Nico, younger brother of Leo’s dance partner, is swept into their cutthroat world of betrayal, addiction, and deadly ambition, he’s the perfect target. The weak point they needed to rip Leo apart.





	graceful skeletons

Leo felt like his lungs were full of lead, heart hammering in his chest, hands settled steady at his sides, spine straight, shoulders back, like he'd grown the worlds heaviest pair of wings. He knew he should relax, he was in all the careful lines their bodies made before a dance. Now was the time for the cast list to be announced, pinned to the wall by Mr. Brunner. They were doing _A Midsummer Nights Dream_ this season, and he wouldn't lose to Grace, not again. He had to be on top, he had to get Oberon. He had to be the best.

He saw Annabeth's slicked hair, tied too tightly in a straw-blonde bun, her hands were trembling, gunmetal eyes dark with longing, he knew she was as hungry as he was to get to the top. To be better than everyone else. His ex, Jason Grace was relaxed, his blonde hair messy, purple bags under sky-blue eyes. Leo knew he wouldn't win against someone as beautiful as he was. This was Russian ballet, they loved the pale hair, the blue eyes, the uniform alabaster of their skin, it would look best in pointe shoes, best under the burning stage lights. Leo would be shoved into the background again, with his dark skin, curly black hair, the remains of a Texas drawl stuck to his tongue, he would never be an Oberon. He deserved it more, but he knew they didn't like how he would look with Annabeth, and Annabeth always got leading soloist. 

When he saw his name next to Oberon on the sheet, he felt like his throat was closing, his vision spotty, he barely noticed Annabeth had been relegated to the role of Helena, that there was a different name high with his.

"Congratulations, Bianca." He heard her faux-sweet voice behind him, he knew Annabeth would have that same beautiful smile she always did when she wanted to tear someone apart. "You'll do great."

"Hey, Leo," It was Grace, awkwardly speaking to him. "Great job, glad you got what you wanted man." He had ice behind his eyes, and confusion in his voice, hurt still there after six months of silence. Leo knew he didn't fit the role of faerie king, he was short, and strong, with thin limbs and delicate features. This was not the ballet he was used to being a part of, this was unfamiliar territory, where Grace was Lysander, and he was Oberon.

"Thank you." He tried to squash his accent, the other part of him that declared he was other, not from New York, not right. Still the boy that had broken Jason's heart, cheating on him with two girls at once.

Bianca would be dancing with him. She was pretty enough, olive toned skin, large brown eyes, a sheet of black hair, small freckles marring her pale cheeks. She was flushed pink with excitement, and her family was waiting outside the window of the studio, her mother peering in curiously. Leo approached her, smiling softly.

"Congratulations on Titania, Bianca." He studied her coolly, she eyed him in return, pouty lips lifting into a shy smile, her shock of red lipstick exaggerating the effect greatly.

"Same to you, guess you're not a forest faerie this year." She had a singing lilt to her delicate Italian accent. They shared a soft look, they had both earned this, both clawed their way from the very bottom to be here. "We'll be dancing together, you'll be my _pas_ partner. I hope we can get to know each other a little better before then, build the chemistry a little." He tried for a polite smile. He figured they would give him Puck, it seemed fitting, he had pointed ears, and mischievous, elvish features. His mamá always told him he looked like he was about to pick someone's pocket, though he would never try something like that. You can't practice your _brisé volé_ in prison.

"I'm going with my family for dinner, if you would like to join us?" She offered, he felt a pang of homesickness, his mamá was still home in Texas, as was his father, who thought all of his dance was a waste of time, he wanted Leo to take over the garage when he was older.

"That would be wonderful, thank you, Bianca." They went out into the hallway, Bianca's parents burying her in affection the moment the door opened, her younger brother stood further away, distant, with the same black hair and dark eyes.

"Nicolás? Yes?" He asked, trying to sound normal, his voice still cradling the boys Italian name with the same delicate, curling tongue he used to force himself to use for the foreign names of positions, leaps, so the teachers would focus on his face, remember him. Even when he was small, he fought for this.

"I prefer Nico." The boy said sullenly, Leo gave him a careful, measured smile. He couldn't be careless here, this studio was hallowed ground as far as he was concerned.

"Nico then." Bianca grabbed his wrist, pulling him lightly toward the changing rooms. They were still in leotards and tights, he was still wearing his pointe shoes. He gave a teasing twirl, going _en pointe_ as he tiptoed delicately down the hall. Bianca laughed, joining him in the perfect movements they had grasped so long ago. She giggled as the door shut behind them, graceful dancers for a moment longer, before they took off the shoes, the leotards, the tights, trading them for street clothes. Leo in shredded jeans and an old flannel shirt, Bianca in a sundress. He felt almost uncomfortable in his sneakers, when they walked, they walked on tips of their toes. They had forgotten how to be people, the two of them, they were all dancer, no flesh and blood. They were nothing but graceful bones in ribbon wrapped shoes.

Leo had taken his curls out of their bun, they were too long, forming a wild cloud of black hair. He tied it into a messy high ponytail. Nico was staring at him, dark eyes wide.

"What was your name?" He asked him, voice small. Leo summoned the squared shoulders he tried to hold all the time, the high chin, his haughty stare that made the girls in his class take interest.

"Leonide Valdez, but I prefer Leo." He remembered being seven years old, his mother teaching him English, French, Italian, Russian, anything that would help him in the ballet. He remembered her crying when he asked her why she was making it so hard, and she told him that she was making him stronger. Making him better than the rest. She was giving him a fighting chance.

"Alright, Leo it is then." Nico tried to catch Bianca's eye, the silent plea for her attention, but she was glowing, a prima ballerina at last.

—

The restaurant was quiet, and cold. Bianca's father was a stern man, with black hair and eyes so dark Leo couldn't see his pupil. Her mother was soft, delicate, with red painted lips and curled brown hair. He was across from Nico, who was trying his best to avoid his eyes.

"How long have you been dancing, Leo?" Maria asked him politely.

"Since I was four, my mamá wanted me in slippers the moment I could walk, but my father said to wait a while longer. She spent the time teaching me languages instead, while my mind was flexible enough to learn languages with fluidity." He smiled as sweetly as he could. "French, English, Russian, Italian, all on top of my mother tongue." His smile grew bitter, he carefully picked the chicken out of his salad, the salad he had asked for without dressing. They put it aside in a little bowl, to tempt him.

He ate only the real food from his salad, ignoring the lettuce, it was nothing but water. It wasn't worth the effort, he ate three bites of chicken, counting them carefully, the way mamá had taught him. Then he counted the carrots, twenty-one, the cucumber, nineteen, the tomato, eleven, he stopped focusing so intently on his food when he noticed Bianca staring at his plate. The salad had been sorted into neat sections, organized in uniform lines, counted out and placed deliberately. She had pasta on her fork, and red cheeks.

"Are you excited about Titania?" He switched her focus quite obviously, she frowned at him, glancing at his plate again, emphasizing focus. He would hear about this again, he was sure of it.

"Of course!" She flew into a long breakdown of her role, grinning ear to ear, but she'd gotten Nico's attention on his plate as well, watching Leo move a cubed piece of feta to the corner with the chicken, the olives quickly following. They were all exiled. Salt made you bloat, dairy gave you acne, meat turned to fat on your bones. He sipped at his water between drawn out bites of tomato, chewing each bite felt like torture, teeth grinding through the food too slowly. He felt like he was swallowing marbles made of lead.

"I hear you're gay." Bianca's mother smiled at him carefully, he could feel his heartbeat climbing in his chest, hands unsteady, shaking around his fork. He caught his breath, looking at her curiously. She didn't look angry. "How is that at the institute?"

"I'm not gay, I'm bisexual." He corrected gently, heartbeat settling a little. "But it's hard being there. The Russians want hyper masculinity in every sense of the word, that means strong, tall, straight boys usually get the good parts. It doesn't help that I'm the wrong colour for their pretty pale pointe-shoes. I'm shocked I got Oberon. Talent doesn't matter as much in Russian ballet most of the time." He frowned into his plate of cucumber quarters. "It's appearance first, everything must be just-so, the lines perfect, the dancers identical in every aspect. That's why there are so many girls with white hair and blue eyes at the institute. They have a preference." He smiled at Nico, calmer outside institute walls, slumping in his seat more, fingers fidgeting with his fork, toe tapping against the floor, hands messing with his tangles of curls. He was still mostly aware of his movements, but they weren't on hallowed ground. He could finally breathe.

"What do you like to do, Nico? You've been awfully quiet, I feel like I'm eating across from a stranger." Nico flushed pale pink, pushing shrimp around his plate.

"I like to do theatre." He was really smiling now, holding a bit more pride in his posture, in his eyes. "I'm playing Hamlet in the production we're doing, I'm very excited, it's the best thing in the world, being on the stage."

"I agree." They shared a small smile, Bianca watching Leo turn pink, grabbing him by the arm.

"Can I have a word with our lovely Oberon for a moment?" She dragged him beside the bathrooms, holding him there firmly. "No."

"What are you talking about?"

"You aren't going to play with my little brothers heart, I saw what you did to Calypso, and to Grace, and to Piper, it's not exactly a secret you're a heartbreaker, Valdez. Stay away from him."

"What will you do if I don't? It's not like you could stop me."

"Calypso moved to France because of you! You're a twisted person when it comes to love, Leo, and I won't have you sinking your claws into my brother. I saw what you did to her, she was a shell when she left, Grace is still hollow because of you, Piper starved herself out of the institute."

"That wasn't my fault!" He remembered her wasting away to nothing while he counted calories on her fingertips, trading candy for diet pills, and coffee for tea that made you vomit until you were hollow and pretty and clean as a whistle on the inside.

"We both know your bad habits rub off on people, your careful counting. No wonder you're skin and bones." He rolled his eyes.

"I'm healthy." She wouldn't understand what it's like to be like that, empty and light, feathery and graceful. He wanted that feeling more than anything.

"We both know that's a filthy lie, Valdez. Your mother is working you like a fucking racehorse and what do you get out of it?"

"Dance." He spat, hating her more every second. "That's more than enough for me."

"Stay the fuck away from Nico." She left ahead of him, sitting down miserably at the table. He followed soon after, not even able to force down the rest of his meal, the plate still full, food barely touched.

"What was that about?" Nico asked him sweetly, his pretty eyes looking at him from across the table, dark as a midnight sky.

"Your sister's just worried about my eating habits." He forced a laugh, already wanting to take one of his pills and waste away, like Piper, like Zoë when he was eleven years old, and she had a heart attack in Studio A, her little bird body curled in on itself, cold now, with her pretty face blank, her eyes like a desert sky, white blue, and hollow.

"I'm sure it's alright, you aren't hurting anything taking out the unhealthy bits." Nico seemed so good. Leo would ruin that, he wanted to ruin it.

"Listen, could I have your number?" He nodded, taking his phone to add him, making a contact for Leo straight off. Bianca watched with furious eyes. Nico didn't seem to notice, or care. "Hopefully I'll see you soon." He winked playfully, getting up and leaving a twenty on the table to pay for his salad. "Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. di Angelo, it really was lovely to spend time with your family." He glared at Bianca with cold eyes, she glared right back. His slouchy flannel was standing out in sharp contrast to their neat outfits, dresses and pressed shirts. He should've known this wouldn't be like home. "See you tomorrow, Bianca." He said her name like an insult, like a filthy word that would cut deep and scar.

"Practice our _pas_ , Valdez. This isn't worth it, trust me, just leave it alone. Don't ruin this too." He smirked at her soft eyes, eyebrow lifting.

"I'll ruin whatever I want, besides, the more you try to stop me the more I want it, _chica_." He curled close to her, and she could see exactly why they had cast him as that trickster god of a faerie king. He was all angular lines, and Texas drawl, and Spanish spat at her coldly with his expert tongue. She could see the appeal of him, see why her brother had hearts for eyes, see why all those girls had given up everything to love him.

She wouldn't fall for it, no matter how hard he tried to get under her skin, she wouldn't let his empty eyes break her down.

"Try all you want." She rolled her eyes, watching him throw on his coat, leaving in a hurry, his messy curls darker than ink, the exact colour of the charcoal her brother's hands were always smudged with.

"What was that about?" Nico asked her, his lips pulled in a frown. He looked accusing already, he was falling for the tricks so easily, faster than any institute brat had.

"Stay away from him, Nico." She kept her voice low, looking at him urgently. "He's bad, horrible, even. He likes to break things, people, anything he can get his hands on. He's not for you. He brings out the worst in people. That's why he's an evil faerie king, the director knows him, knows how horrible he can be. He's dangerous, Nico, he'll hurt you just because he's bored, he'll take your secrets, and your love, and turn them into weapons. He isn't worth it. Trust me. Stay away from ballet boys."

His phone buzzed on the table.

_ Leo: Hey, it's Leo. When can I see you again?  _

Nico flushed, glaring at her coldly.

"Stay out of it, Bianca. I can handle myself." He looked like he wasn't even phased by her words, typing a quick reply. He didn't understand his sister. She brought Leo to meet them, that beautiful boy with those warm eyes the colour of the brandy Nico stole from their parents cupboard, then told him to stay away? No way in hell.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." She frowned at her plate, Nico staring at his phone with a glowing smile on his lips.

_ Nico: right now, get me out of here, valdez  _

"See you later." He stood, grabbing his coat, staring at his phone, and the message lighting up the screen.

_ Leo: I'm right outside, come on, let's get you away from your fiend of a sister.  _

"Nico, sit down, we're trying to have a nice dinner for your sister." His mother tried to get him to stay, her red lipstick had smeared onto her teeth. Her futile attempts at authority would be funny if they weren't sad. His mother didn't know half of what he had done, rules he had broken right under her nose. He wouldn't start listening to her now, not when he'd already gotten this far.

"See you later." He roeated, leaving quickly, pulling Leo into a back alley, his hand over his mouth, one finger on his lips.

"Nico!" His mother's voice, shouting. "Nico get back here, goddamn it! Where are you?" She walked right past them, searching madly, Bianca right behind her, peering down the alley quickly before shaking her head and moving on. He let out a breath.

"Come on." He was still whispering, holding Leo's hand and leading him down the alleyway, stopping in a busy intersection.

"What are we doing?" He took a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket, lighting one between his lips.

"Are we just fucking, or do you want to get to know me?" He knocked the ash, letting out a breath of smoke. Leo realized suddenly that the sweet personality Nico had shown just minutes ago was some kind of act, a facade meant to fool his parents into thinking he was who they thought he was.

"I wanna get to know you better, little _diavolo_." Nico rolled his eyes.

"I'm not a little devil, Leo." He offered him the cigarette, he shook his head quickly.

"Nico, I'm a dancer, in case you've forgotten. We can go back to the institute if you'd like." Nico shook his head.

"Let's go to my spot, that Dance Academy shit is creepy, makes my skin crawl. I've got a spot that sells me vodka if I bat my eyelashes and give a blowjob every once in a while." Nico seemed so vibrant, younger than him by far, though there was only a year between them, alive in a way Leo has never been.

"I don't drink."

"Geez, don't smoke, don't drink, what do you do?" Leo rolled his eyes.

"Adderall, and edibles. They help with stress, and the adderall really makes me focus, it's great for staying awake too." He shook his head, blinking hard. "You don't care."

"No, it's interesting." Nico was still puffing on his cigarette, holding it carelessly, like it was an extension of his arm. "I like finding out what you perfectionist aliens do in your spare time." Leo spat out a cold laugh.

"We don't get spare time, every second we don't spend dancing is a second wasted. I'm shocked your sister got a good role, she spends weekends at home instead of in the studio like she should. It's pathetic. The only reason I'm here with you is my inability to work when I'm not in a relationship with someone. I need people, and you seem interesting enough to keep my attention." Leo glanced at the phone in his pocket. "Everyone in the institute right now is either dancing, crying, or fucking. I can guarantee." Nico's smoke was burning to the filter between his fingers, dark eyes wide, watching Leo speak about the institute like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"That's so bizarre, why is it so intense?" He ground the butt of the smoke under heavy black boots.

"If you don't have a good part you're nothing. You're nobody. Getting an understudy part is like becoming some kind of ghost." Leo looked at him carefully. "If you aren't the best, you might as well be dead. At least that's how my mind works."

"What? Is that why you don't fucking eat?" They kept walking, wandering to nowhere and nothing in particular.

"Yes." He said it so plainly, like he wasn't killing himself over it.

"God, that's so fucked up, why the hell do your parents let you do this if it hurts you so much?"

"It's all I care about. It's what I've been doing my whole life, my mamá told me that if I don't come home a star not to come home at all." Nico was falling in love with his voice, his harsh accent softened by his gentle tongue, forced soft by the love languages he was raised on.

"Your mom sounds like a bitch." Nico stopped, looking Leo in his brandy eyes. They were in front of the institute, it's old hallways silent, the night stealing over the creaking planks of wood, forcing them to sit steady and still.

"You wanna come in, little _diavolo_?" He shrugged noncommittally. Leo punched in the security code, leading Nico past the studios, he could hear tinny music from smartphone speakers bouncing off the hardwood floors, whispers of dancers footsteps behind every door.

The dorms were empty. Except for Jason Grace, who was curled on the couch in the common room with a textbook in his hands and a pen between his fingers. Leo gave him an awkward smile.

"Hi!" Nico smiled brightly, still smelling of cigarettes. He extended his hand, nails painted bright blue. "I'm Nico, nice to meet you."

"Jason Grace." His voice was deep, and his hands were strong. "Hi Leo." His voice cracked a little, he cringed.

"I was just heading up to Leo's dorm, we're probably gonna end up fucking, so avoid the room," Jason went white. "Anyway, nice meeting you." Leo grabbed his arm, pulling him down the hallway, going just around he corner before stopping in his tracks.

"What the fuck, di Angelo?" Nico gave him a mischievous smile.

"I like watching you turn red, _occhi d'oro_." And Leo did turn red, stepping closer, looking down at him with those dark golden eyes.

"I stand by my statement that you're a little devil."

"Oh but I'm an angel, haven't you heard my last name? If anything you're the devil, little heartbreak boy." Leo kept getting closer, backing Nico against the wall, watching his black hole eyes with an intensity that made his heart race.

"Is that what your sister calls me?"

"Don't bring up my sister when you're about to kiss me, _dios_ , Valdez." Leo leaned in close, and Nico felt like his lungs had stopped working, breathless and pink and entirely under the spell of this boy he barely knew. Leo smelled like dust, and rosemary, and dark chocolate. Nico wanted to fuck him senseless.

"Why do you think I'm going to kiss you?" Leo got a little closer, lips almost touching his, voice low and soft, and warm. "A little arrogant are we?"

"I have every right to be, look at you, Valdez. You're like a painting of an angel." Leo's brandy eyes slipped shut, he kissed him gently, briefly, mouth warm, hands finding his hips, pressing him against the wall. He fumbled with his dorm key in his hand, lips moving from his reluctantly.

"You're like a carving of the devil, di Angelo." He finally managed to get the door open, Nico following him quickly into the dark room, slamming the door shut behind him.

The light flicked on, and his eyes went wide. The dorm was ridiculously messy, worn pointe shoes strewn about, clothes dropped where he took them off, books scattered the floor, bits of little machines covering every flat surface, tiny automatons, little drones put together with mismatched parts. There were tools everywhere, an unfinished little metal contraption on his bedside table, a ridiculous homemade welder uncomfortably close to his bed. He had makeup and hair products in one spot, leotards and pointe shoes and slippers and machine oil, all parts of him Nico wanted for himself.

"It's a mess, I'm sorry." Nico looked at him with dark eyes, lips parted slightly, long lashes making him look pretty as a girl.

"Just fuck me."

And he did.


End file.
